


Family

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:30:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When HQ assigns a new man to the team, it looks like they really lucked out.  Steve Whitaker, a good strong generalist, is quickly becoming everyone's friend.  Well, maybe not everyone's.  He and Chief just don't seem to mesh, and as the young man sees the others taking to the newcomer more and more, Chief starts to wonder if he'll have a place with the team much longer.  He'd thought they were becoming a family; now, he has to wonder.  Events soon prove interesting, showing that however different people may be, one thing seems to be a common thread - more often than not, there seems to be a solid sense of -  'you take care of family'





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> War Years - soon after 'That Redmond Blood!'

"Steve Whitaker, coming to us from Michigan State Prison. He'll be here by the end of the week." The guys weren't any too thrilled; it had taken them time to get used to each other, know where they stood. Having someone else in the mix now, that just started it all over again, left everything unbalanced.

Well, Garrison wasn't sure he was any too thrilled either; it DID make sense, though, especially after the string of injuries over past few months; there'd been too many times when his four-man team had turned into a three-man team, which hadn't made getting the job done any easier, especially when the missing man had the skills required for the job. There had been one hell of a lot of jury-rigging. It was the same with all the units, not just theirs.

"So, w'at's this guy's speciality, Warden?" Goniff asked.

"He's a strong generalist, according to the file." The blank look on the Englishman's face maybe was genuine, maybe not; Garrison and the others wondered sometimes.

"Means he's some kinda expert at everything, Limey; or at least thinks he is," came the skeptical comment from Casino.

"Well, his file certainly seems to bear out the claims," Actor said from the side chair where he was perusing the file he'd picked up while Garrison was otherwise occupied. If any of the others had done that, at least right in front of him, Garrison would have yanked it back, but Actor was his SIC, second in command, and that got him more leeway. "Skilled in any number of weapons, pistol, rifle, knife, martial arts; used to race cars, so he's good behind the wheel; speaks and reads several languages; highly educated, college educated with two majors, graduated with honors; talented with his hands, obviously, juggling, magic tricks, card tricks, calligraphy, that sort of thing - they say he could copy almost any handwriting as a joke, has the potential for become a talented forger with a little practice, took up learning to pick pockets as a way to amuse himself. Quite a talented actor in school; they think he could be taught to run a con rather easily. Warden says he's easy-going, personable; he has him working in the office, doing admin; hates to lose him, actually." 

The guys were looking at each other, puzzled. They learned their talents to make a living, survive, except maybe for Casino taking it up because, hey, that's what his family pretty much did!

Surprisingly it was Chief who asked, "so, he's smart, got the schoolin, can do all kinds of stuff. How'd he end up in Michigan State?"

Garrison started to say it at the same time the others looked at each other and said pretty much in unison, "oh, we know, 'he was framed!'"

Garrison spared a quick smile. "Well, I don't know. He was accused of battery and rape, though there were differing accounts as to what had happened. There were witnesses who said the girl had been drunk, tripped and hurt herself leaving the dance, on her way home, that's where all the bruises came from. His lawyer said she was willing enough, just changed her mind afterwards when her parents saw her face and questioned her; got scared and lied about what had happened. It can happen," he acknowledged.

Well, they all knew that, had run into something similar not long ago.

"The judge didn't seem to believe his story, though; sentenced him to two years at Michigan, though there was a push to get the judge to change his mind; boy comes from well-to-do family, father's a U.S. Senator. There's an appeal in process now, if not parole, then downing it to twelve months. Well, his father is really pushing for it; makes sense, you take care of family when you can. He's already served six months of those two years."

Goniff frowned, thinking none of that made much sense. "So, 'e's doing a two-spot, got part of it done, got a chance of it shifting to maybe a few months, working in a safe place, the warden's looking out for 'im, but's willing to come maybe get 'is 'ead shot off to bail on w'at 'e's got left? 'E lookin at some trouble there at Michigan? Something not in that file?" Goniff knew first hand the sort of trouble that could make you take just about any desperate chance to get out in a hurry; actually, each of the men knew a bit about such things and there wasn't just one kind of trouble, there were lots of possibilities.

Garrison pulled the file back out of Actor's hands. "Doesn't say. Seems the father's pretty influential, decided his son would be better off elsewhere while the appeal process is going on. A note says the good Senator is up for re-election, maybe thinks this'll look better to the voters. Doubt he'll be with us long; I'm to evaluate him, see how he runs in harness. They're going to be making up some new teams, at least that's the scuttlebutt; if he's any good, he'll probably head over to one of those before long." At least Garrison hoped so; the team was pulling together, strong and secure, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

Back in the Dorm, Chief and Goniff talked it over in low voices, "family's got pull, he's got all that goin for him, and he ends up working with us. Aint that just somethin!"

Goniff had a frown, "well, don't like that bit about the rape, knocking the girl around. If they're right about that, don't need someone like that around Josie and Nellie, Mollie and any of the rest of the women around 'ere."

Chief looked at him, "you worried about Meghada?"

Goniff looked at him, brows raised high, flushed just a little, "maybe, but not as much as the others. Well, things can 'appen, but more'n likely 'e tries anything with 'er, 'e won't be trying anything again with anybody else, not for a good long time." Chief nodded; yeah, the O'Donnell woman DID have that reputation.

Steve Whitaker was everything his file indicated, smart, personable, attractive, highly educated. Although the guys were reluctant at first, he seemed to be able to fit in, making himself agreeable at least, to each of them, made friends with them quickly. Garrison found it a relief to have someone who actually followed orders and didn't try to wiggle around them; he actually thought the man had the makings of a good officer in him. Actor found in the new man someone to discuss literature and art, someone with whom he didn't have to explain what he was saying, someone who didn't get those annoying blank looks after one of his little soliloquies. He didn't seem to think it beneath him to join in their poker games, didn't take offense at Casino's rough exterior, found Goniff's snitching his lighter funny as hell, insisted on the Englishman teaching just how he did it. And when they tested him a little, here and there, just a casual hint dropped once or twice about maybe a little 'shopping' done across the Channel, he hadn't gone chasing off to Garrison or the Sergeant Major, just laughed and kept his mouth shut.

"I think he is going to work out. Well, that's all to the good, since they're now talking about shifting us into a five-man team. I've seen no problems, have any of you?" Actor asked during one of the times when Whitaker was working with Garrison on maps, reading and annotating them with the new information they obtained during their missions.

Casino shrugged, "seems okay. Don't know about safe-work; dont seem to have the right touch, but haven't worked with him all that long. It may come; he's eager enough, asks the right questions anyway."

Actor looked over at the youngest member of the team, "Chief?"

There was a long hesitation, Chief having been quite aware of how well Whitaker seemed to fit with the others, knowing it wasn't the same for him, "dont know, Actor. Know he seems okay, but he don't feel right." He shrugged, "cant say why, just he feels off, somehow." 

Actor exchanged a knowing look with Casino; they had discussed how Chief seemed to be the only one not actively sought out by their newest team member. When Actor had mentioned to Whitaker that a few lessons with the Indian on knife-work might come in handy, the man had seemed uncomfortable, had made excuses. Actor thought perhaps it had been slightly easier to accept the close quarters, the seeming parity with the others than with Chief; Whitaker had seemed very taken aback at the Indian being on the team, though seemingly had bitten his tongue from making any disparaging remarks. Still, the class difference seemed much more obvious with those two, far more than even with Goniff where there was not only the class difference but nationality. The tall Italian decided the race difference outweighed the nationality difference by a great deal in Whitaker's mind. Perhaps that distinction went both ways as Chief was certainly not making any overtures, not that they'd ever known the young man to anyway; they mentally shrugged, not everyone liked everyone, they were just lucky the four of them had meshed so well. 

Goniff, though, he'd gotten a more thoughtful look on his face, though he'd trained himself so that look really just looked a bit more vapid than his much more common, 'what can I do to amuse myself or annoy someone else next' look that he wore so often, so neither Actor nor Casino noticed.

Later he got Chief alone, asked what he'd wanted to ask then, "ei, Chiefy. Know you said Whitaker, 'e feels 'off'. You 'ave ruddy good 'unches; you talk, I'll listen," and somewhat to both their surprise, Chief did exactly that. Not in a concise, thought-out manner, but just bits and pieces, stray 'hunches' as Goniff had called them.

The young man flushed, "was thinking bout asking Meghada to take a look; she's been gone so much, don't think she's met him more than once. He don't like working with an Indian, maybe that's all there is. He wouldn't be the first." They decided to set up a casual meeting, but then the order came, and they were out and gone. 

It had almost gone wrong, just that one slip-up and the whole thing started to slide into disaster-land.

"Chief, what happened? Your timing was way off taking out those two guards; Actor and Casino almost got caught."

Garrison was doing his usual debriefing - he was thorough, as always. A quick review while still on the ground, as soon as they got to some degree of safety; the formal debriefing at HQ; then the big wrap-up back at the Mansion. Now he just got an impassive look, and a shrug, "weren't where they were supposed to be; had to backtrack around to the south."

Garrison opened his mouth to ask for more details when he caught that quick look and tiny headshake from Whitaker, and decided to let it rest, for now anyway. After the briefing, he took Whitaker aside.

"Is there something I need to know?" and the man gave a painful wince, and a reluctant, "it's hardly his fault, you know. It has to be a handicap, Lieutenant, not being able to understand the language, even a little German or French or Italian, enough to maybe help. And I think perhaps he didn't quite understand me when I gave him their location, or perhaps he thought . . . Well, I do feel there is some resentment there, you know. Perhaps he just thought he knew better. I really couldn't say. And perhaps he was concerned they might spot him; he's hardly the norm in appearance for the middle of Germany, of course. While I'm not quite as good as he is with a knife, I do believe I'm improving to where I might be of use to you in that capacity, should the circumstances arise, where perhaps he might not be the best choice."

Garrison looked thoughtful, discussed a few other matters with Whitaker, and sent the man on his way. Whitaker had volunteered to help Sergeant Major Rawlins with some of the paperwork, and he'd spend the rest of the afternoon there. Garrison frowned, pulled out that file again, read it through carefully.

It was really masterful, that lay-up. Of course Goniff didn't quite phrase it that way when he relayed that little tidbit of conversation that he 'just 'appened to over'ear'. It was amazing what he 'just 'appened to over'ear' from the other side of that little hidden doorway in the library and the couple other handly little spots he'd found elsewhere.

"I tell you, Casino, 'e's trying to pull a fast one on Chiefy, the rest of us. Just like the cons we do, you know, a word 'ere, a glance there, 'alf a scrap of paper with just a few words, a little misdirection. Since when aint Chiefy where 'e's supposed to be? 'E's quiet, not stupid! Says Stevie boy told 'im the wrong spot, clear as anything!"

Casino considered brushing it off; he knew Goniff was fiercely loyal to those he considered important enough to be loyal TO, which admittedly were pretty damned few, but took another look at the pissed off Goniff; the little Englishman might be biased, but he wasn't stupid either.

"You don't figure it's just them not liking each other?"

Goniff snorted, "'ere, maybe. Ei, Casino, you see Chiefy messing up on a mission, putting us all at risk, just for that?? 'Anging back cause 'e's flippin afraid??! No ruddy way. No, the bloke's up to something! And we can't let 'im get away with it, Casino! Chiefy's family!" 

They didn't take it to Actor, there wasn't time since Actor was in with Garrison, then Whitaker was back with them all, as usual. Chief had started in a side chair with the latest book he was working his way through; Whitaker had moved close, leaned over to take a look, and in a quiet voice said something none of the others heard. Chief's cold, "no thanks," they did hear.

Later, Chief pondered over the chess board, head moving back and forth from the board and the pieces to that book, 'A Beginner's Guide To Chess', having turned down a suggestion by Whitaker to "show you a few pointers, get you off to a better start. Help you avoid the beginner mistakes, like that one you just made. I'd be most happy to help, you know."

Taking the cold sullen look in stride, Whitaker had just shrugged, moved back to Actor's side, and he and the tall Italian spent much of the evening discussing French literature. Whitaker eventually offered just a low chuckle and a rather rueful, "I probably shouldn't have said anything."

Actor had just looked the inquiry and Whitaker explained, "he seemed to be struggling with that book; I merely suggested I could help him find something a bit simpler. It was the same with the chess board. Fellow just doesn't seem to want to take help when it's offered. Of course, I'm sure it's a blow to his pride, being so far behind everyone else."

Actor looked thoughtful, but only said, "I think he is doing quite well in his endeavors; he certainly puts forth the effort." 

Goniff played his usual odd game of solitaire, and Casino heckled him as usual, and lights out came at the usual time. More of than one of them were doing some thinking after that happened, before sleep came.

 

Another trip out for the team came up within twenty-four hours, far too short a time for them to rest. Still, out they went - well, most of them. Chief had taken a spill on the obstacle course that last go round, wrenched his knee and had to take a pass.

He listened as the door shut downstairs, listened as Garrison and the others, including Whitaker, headed off to someplace in Germany, and silently cursed to himself. He'd not been expecting Whitaker to lose his balance, bump into him on the log run; he was angry at himself because he probably should have been expecting something. He'd listened to the sincere apologies, the explanation to the Warden that "it was my fault, Lieutenant. I must have bumped him when he was distracted, wasn't balanced quite right. I take full responsibility," and all that had seemed quite genuine.

Everyone else seemed to take it as that, a regretable accident. Chief didn't buy it, no, but Actor and Casino and Garrison had seemed to. Chief wasn't too sure about Goniff; that little Englishman had more expressions that meant something different than what was going on in his mind than anyone Chief had ever met. He really wish they'd had time to talk before the guys left; he'd wanted to warn Goniff, have him warn the others. Hell, no matter what else, they were family!

Two days later, Meghada showed up at the doorway to the Common Room, with a warm smile and a bottle of liniment in one hand and a bottle of something else in the other.

"Had a note on my door, that you needed these, and someone to talk to. Seems you've a take on something Goniff thinks needs an objective ear for. Are you up for that?"

And Chief realized he was more than up for that; he'd been worried about the guys, the mission, and the overall situation, maybe overthinking everything. He was honest with himself; he knew he was worried about losing his place on the team, his place with these men he'd come to think of as friends, perhaps brothers-in-spirit. He knew that could be skewing his thinking. 

He didn't want to be creating trouble where there really wasn't any, but he didn't trust Whitaker, didn't think the guys were, well, maybe 'safe' with him. He didn't drink much, that one drink she'd poured him lasting him pretty much through the whole afternoon they spent together, but it was good talking to someone who understood about 'knowing' stuff when there just wasn't any evidence to support the knowing. He smiled just a little, thinking of how her brother Ian had called HIM 'brother'; how she'd done the same more than once. Now, with this problem facing him, it was good to know that he had family of sorts to listen to him, help him figure it all out.

The team was back, and it looked like the mission went well. Chief listened in on the debriefing; well, that was the procedure even if one of them hadn't gone out for one reason or another; Garrison figured that just made good sense. Sometimes hearing about a mistake kept you from making that same one yourself; same with something that worked out right. 

Afterwards, Casino made a point of asking Actor, "Actor, the Warden didn't mention that bundle you pulled out along with maps. I know you kept half for our little slush fund, handed him half like that was all there is. He usually says something, yells at us, tells us which 'worthy cause' he's gonna see it gets to. Think he forgot?"

Actor stopped, "he doesn't usually forget, though perhaps he did this time. I'll take a look at the report once it's prepared. That does seem odd."

"He didn't say anything when you handed it to him?" Casino asked, pressing the point.

Actor started, "I didn't . . ." and the look on his face was thoughtful. Casino just waited, somehow knowing what was coming. "I didn't hand it to him directly; I gave the maps and the money to Whitaker to pass along, since I had that other little 'stop' I needed to make," referring to that little minature he thought was just begging to be a part of their after-the-war piggy bank.

Casino met Actor's eyes, "wonder how much, if any of that, got where it was supposed to?"

"I think perhaps I should inquire of our newfound friend." He did so, after he confirmed that report showed no mention of any cash, nothing but the maps they'd gone in for, and a casual comment to Garrison didn't seem to indicate he'd ever seen the money. Not that Actor said anything outright, not yet anyway.

Whitaker had been honest, anyone looking at his face, his eyes would have sworn to that.

"Everything you handed to me, Actor, of course. I wouldn't want to spoil your game."

Actor raised an aristocratic eyebrow, "my game?"

"Well, don't suppose you and the guys get much spending money. I surely don't see any harm in taking a little commission off the top. And I'm not surprised Garrison feels the same; after all, a Lieutenant's pay is really pretty lousy. And I know he's been paying for the breakage and damages the team causes around here; Can't blame him for getting something to make up for that, now can you? Besides, he has to know, he sends it up to Headquarters, includes it in his report, some hotshot up there'll see it gets into his OWN pocket. No, the Lieutenant's no dummy."

Actor went back and reported that little conversation to the rest of the guys. Funny, somehow they just couldn't see the Warden lining his own pockets that way. Real funny. When Actor had a little private discussion with Garrison, the officer took it that way too. Real funny. Or maybe not.

A call from Jake down at the pub came in through the Sergeant Major early in the morning.

"Lieutenant, I don't know w'at it's about, but 'e asked that you come see 'im, on the quiet, without any of the men, not even the guards, knowing w'ere you're 'eaded. Seemed right upset, 'e did."

Garrison heaved a frustrated sigh; he had a ton of things on his mind, some he could put his finger on, a few that just nudged at him but not speaking clearly yet.

"Alright. Here, finish these reports if you could. And, Gil? Do them yourself, don't have Whitaker help you. I'd as soon he wasn't back in the file room, anywhere near the Classified stuff, not til I tell you otherwise."

That got an odd look, and a quick nod, "might not be a bad idea, Lieutenant. There's been a few things, well . . . We can talk later." Garrison wondered just what the sharp-eyed non-com had seen that he needed to know about.

"Headed in to see Reverend Standish about that work he wanted done; be back later. BE HERE!" he yelled up the stairs, getting laughs and a nonchalant, "hey, Goniff! Hear that??! Better cancel our tickets for the opera!"

"Jake? Is there a problem?"

The broadshouldered bartender was angry, there was no doubt about that. "Damned right there's a problem, Lieutenant." He went to the doorway to the rear of the pub, said a few words, and Nellie came in, hesitantly.

"Show him, Nellie," and the older barmaid flushed and held out her arm, pulling up her long sleeve.

Garrison stared at the purpling bruises, frowned heavily, "one of the guards, Nellie? Tell me which one . . ."

Only to get a harsh response from Jake, "NOT one of the guards, one of your men, Lieutenant."

Garrison's eyes showed his shock; his team had never shown anything but friendliness toward Nellie or the younger Josie, kindness even. Well, he thought maybe a couple of the guys and Josie had gotten a little more than 'friendly', but there'd never been any hint . . .

Then he realized, {"my men - I've got five now, not just four,"} remembering the file he'd been given on Steve Whitaker, just why he'd been in prison in the first place.

"Nellie - which one?" kindly but with a tone that told her he wasn't going to accept anything but the truth.

"Never any trouble with the other lads, you know that, Lieutenant, not this kind of trouble anyway. That new one, though . . ." Jake started off, but Garrison held up his hand.

"Nellie?"

"Was having trouble getting some things off one of the shelves in the basement; the lads were here, I asked Chief to help me, the others being up to some of their usual mischief. He did, and that new one, he didn't seem to like it much. Caught me outside, just as I was leaving. I told him I didn't, you know, tried to laugh it off. Told me if I could take someone like Chief off to a back room, Indian scum like that, I could . . . "

Garrison went cold, "Nellie, tell me all of it. Was there more than the arm, more than just bruises?"

Her eyes were scared but determined, "Jake came out before there was too much more, and he took off right quick, but, aye, I've bruises elsewhere."

Jake confirmed, "took her to AJ, bruises that's all, but that's bloody well more than enough, Lieutenant! I'll not have him back in here; I'm telling you flat out. Nellie didn't want to make a report with Ben Miller, what with him being one of your men, but I made her. We're leaving it in your hands for right now, but no more, not one bloody foot on the property, and he tries for her, or Josie again, well, they're family . . ."

Garrison's face was a stone mask, "he won't, Jake. Nellie, I can't tell you how sorry I am," his voice gentling as he laid one hand on her shoulder. 

He stopped the jeep halfway back to the Mansion, sat and thought, then firmed his lips and drove on, stopping at The Cottage.

"Meghada, can we talk?" he asked abruptly as she answered his knock on her kitchen door.

"I was going to call you later, Lieutenant. I think we really DO need to talk."

"And I can't just send him back; I put out a couple of feelers, and he's got them snowed, or maybe his father and his cronies do. Seems, if I decide I want to go back to four men, I won't be the one deciding who goes back, they will. And from what I hear, a 'strong generalist' who has as many different talents as Whitaker has, they think he's more valuable to me than someone whose specialties could 'easily be duplicated elsewhere'. I don't think Actor or Casino are in any danger; a conman of Actor's talents is almost irreplaceable, and a good safecracker, lockman and such, not so easy either. Goniff's talents are highly specialized but you know we've always had those who doubt his ability to keep up with the others, and Chief? HQ seems to think someone good with cars and knives can be replaced easily enough. So I can't just tell them I want to go back to the original four man team."

"And I can't just tell them Whitaker isn't cutting it, is a problem, and ship him out either; it's pretty plain they aren't going to listen. I don't think leaving it to the guys is a good idea; I'm getting the feeling he might end up getting shipped out in a body bag, and that's going to have EVERYTHING hitting the fan! And I don't want to take him across the Channel again! I don't want a U S Senator on my neck about why his kid didn't come back from a mission, and I'm pretty damned sure he won't! I need something, someone" he paused, then continued in a rush, "someone smart, devious, underhanded, sneaky as all get out, no scruples to speak of, and I need to keep the guys pretty much clear."

"So you thought of me," she said with an appreciative grin.

He nodded, a rueful smile coming to his handsome face, "so I thought of you."

"Lieutenant, you DO know how to flatter a girl, you know!" and they shared a comfortable laugh. That laugh was SO comfortable, it actually made Garrison UN-comfortable, if that made any sense. He found a lot of the interactions with her turned out that way.

 

A pot of coffee later, tempered with heavy cream and fresh scones, "it could be dangerous," he'd warned, to watch her shrug in casual acknowledgement.

"True, which is why it can't be just anyone. But there's a history, Lieutenant, a pattern we can work with. With Nellie, it was seeing Chief being taken away in private, not for the reason he was imagining, of course, but to his mind, totally UNacceptable. In his mind, I think that made what he did, what he intended for Nellie quite acceptable in turn, made it all her fault. That girl he was accused, convicted of assulting? She'd turned down his earlier invitation to dance, then, as he told his friends, she 'had the nerve to dance' with someone he considered much his social inferior; that boy was dark as well, though not American Indian, I believe. Even tried to have his lawyer put the theory out there that 'if' she was indeed beaten and raped, it was that young man, the one from the wrong side of the tracks, that did it. That she lied so it wouldn't be so 'embarrassing'. So much less painful and humiliating, so much more socially acceptable to be beaten and raped by one of the upper classes, of course."

Dry didn't begin to describe her voice; Garrison wasn't so sure he wanted to describe her eyes either, they promised no good, that's for sure.

"Well, we'll keep an eye on Chief; in fact, I got the impression from Goniff that that is already happening. Who do you have in mind as the 'target'?"

He probably knew better than to ask, but still, "and don't say you! Meghada, if there's anyone who looks less like a 'victim' than you . . ." looking at the young redhead, still in rough clothes from that quick two-day jaunt into god-knows-where, hair in that tight round-the-head braiding that left her battle-ready. She looked like she'd already licked her weight in wildcats and was ready to take on another batch. The knife in the scabbard at her hip didn't soften the impression any at all, nor the revolver in her waistband. 

She grinned at him, "oh, you've never met her, Lieutenant, not to my certain recollection. She doesn't come round very much, just once in a great while, when I invite her for some special reason, but I'm told she can be rather sweet and endearing, even a bit missish! Well, let me just say I think she just might pull off the job."

She leaned back, studied the ceiling for a moment, then suggested, "Chief's knee is still touchy; perhaps you might take the rest of the men on some sort of training, nothing too strenuous, don't want the lads TOO annoyed with me. Just, leave Chief in the Library and keep the rest away for two or three hours, til perhaps 5 o'clock? Quietly returning, I should stress, most quietly, and directed to the Library, perhaps? I'm sure you can find some reason to want to give them another lecture." 

"Meghada," he started in a warning tone of voice, getting a chuckle from her.

"Lieutenant?"

That look on her face reminded him far TOO much of Goniff at his most conniving! He groaned, "nevermind. I just hope this works; I can't and won't let him do any more damage, but with his father being a Senator, well, there are strings he can pull."

She actually grinned at him, "strings can be dangerous, aye."

Then a look he really could have done without came to her face, as she pulled that long knife with the curved deadly tip. "There are ways of dealing with strings, you know, most effectively, should all else fail. Family is family," stroking the blade against her jawline, tilting her head in a manner reminiscent of a bird of prey.

Suppressing a cold shudder, he left to arrange things as best he could; she made a phone call or two, and went to properly greet that infrequent guest she had such confidence in.

"Now where did we put that dress, puss? It was pink, wasn't it?"

The guys got back right at 5pm, and after a scolding from Garrison outside, "and I've heard all I want to hear from any of you! Not one more word out of anyone! Not one grumble, not one damned sound! Upstairs, to the Library. I think we're overdue for a little discussion!" trooped silently up to the Library.

Garrison swung open the door, onto the scene of a pretty young thing curled at Chief's feet, him sitting in one of the big arm chairs. She was giggling, leaning into his legs, her hand on his knee, looking up at him almost worshipfully, and he was giving her one of his rare, and quite attractive smiles. When the door opened, and she saw Garrison and the others, her eyes got wide, and she giggled again.

"Oops! I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I intended to be gone before you got back. I just brought some fresh baking, and some liniment for Rainey's poor knee, and well, time just got away from us," looking at Chief, giving a little combination shrug and wriggle, and her face just glowed! "Better get back home!"

She glided over to the doorway, smoothing that rather rumpled, though terribly sweet and dainty pink floral dress back into order, touched those ivory buttons as if to be sure they were secured, tossed her long curls that were confined in that matching wide floral hairband back over her shoulders, and swished her way out, pausing to look back at a grinning Chief. She gave just a tiny wave, four fingers fluttering, not a full hand, "bye, Rainey, see you later," another giggle, and she was gone.

The men looked at each other, at Chief, and Garrison asked, very dryly, "have a good afternoon, Chief?" to get an answer that sounded more like Casino than the Indian.

"Ohhhh yeah! Couldn't be better!"

"Ruddy 'ell, Chiefy! You didn't 'ave to enjoy yourself THAT much!" much to the amusement of the others.

Whitaker made a point of asking Sergeant Major Rawlins later, "that girl, who is she? I didn't think civilians were supposed to be in here, well, except for us, I mean."

Gil Rawlins got a slightly disapproving look on his face, "yes, well, exceptions do occur. The O'Donnell miss sometimes brings a few treats, when there's been too much baked at The Cottage. However, I hadn't realized she was above stairs; I'm sure the regulations forbid that. I've mentioned that to Chief before." Whitaker nodded thoughtfully. 

A trip to the pub later, the Lieutenant relenting for Whitaker and Actor alone, them having stayed out of trouble, unlike the others. Garrison remained behind, supposedly to keep an eye on the miscreants.

"So, that girl, what's the story? She seemed awfully familiar with Chief. Does the Lieutenant really allow that?" Whitaker asked casually after the first mug of beer.

"Well, he certainly doesn't encourage it, but occasionally, I must admit, the level of familiarity does seem rather, well, more than you would expect."

As Whitaker skillfully pumped him for information, Actor found himself talking more than he would usually, painting a rather interesting, if not particularly accurate picture. When Actor found himself being coaxed away for an intense discussion by Reverend Standish and Ben Miller, Steve Whitaker was rather at loose ends.

Actor just nodded distractedly when Whitaker announced, "I'm going to head back, maybe take another night run on the path to loosen up, be prepared if we have another night mission." 

Ben Miller was rubbing his hand over his aching head; yes, he understood the need for all this, having heard Nellie's tale, knew sometimes putting the safety of his village ahead of the rules and regulations was exactly what was needed. Just, it had already been a long day, and turning into even a longer night. The call from The Cottages had dragged him away from a quiet little game of cards with his Alice, and that was disappointing, as he'd actually thought he might have been winning for a change, although with cards and Alice that was never a sure thing. She was a tricksy thing, his sweet wife.

Now, here he was, sorting this out between a highly indignant and more than a little bruised Steve Whitaker, one eye closing rapidly, "was passing by and heard the commotion, a woman screaming for help. She's all confused, probably the shock. Just what comes of allowing . . . Well, I'll say no more!"

Though he did, of course, lots more, especially taking in young Ian O'Donnell standing there in the shadows, bronzed skin, black hair and all, his Apache heritage showing strong in his face. It was easy to understand how he might mistake the man for someone else, especially in the darkness, though in the light of the cottage the difference was quite apparent. Not to mention the presence of an American General, for some unknown reason.

And of course, there was the highly indignant, also bruised Meghada O'Donnell, complete with tearful eyes and trembling lower lip, clad in a light summery dress that was going to need some serious repairs if not total replacement, her hair down about her shoulders, "there we were, having a drink, talking about . . . Well, that's not important! They went inside to get another drink, suddenly THAT one comes up behind me, from out of nowhere! and pushes me over against the wall and then down to the ground. Totally caught me off guard he did, Ben! See, he ripped my pretty dress and everything!"

Ben took a good look at that dress, pretty, pink, frilly, sweet - certainly nothing like what he'd seen the young woman in before. Something that looked, well, ODD, on her even. {"Like putting a frilly pink lace collar on a tiger!"}. That look of weak, frightened and shocked innocence seemed even more out of place, to his way of thinking.

He was having to work to keep the heavy and serious official look on his face. After all, this was the same young woman he'd seen wipe out a goodly number of bruisers intent on trouble, all with a look of abject boredom on her face. Not to mention the time she'd ever so casually rammed that fork through that corporal's hand for getting overly familiar, pinning it to the table so they'd had a hell of a time getting him free again, without her even blinking an eye. "And I've never seen the like, the sheer nerve, Constable," came the stenorious tones of one General 'Mac' McCloud. "As she said, we were in the garden, it being a pleasant night; much cooler out there than inside. We were discussing certain matters, a surprise party for her godfather in fact, my good friend General Abernathy, in honor of his upcoming promotion; I found my glass empty and went inside to refill it, Ian came inside too. Had to rummage a bit to find another bottle and open it; heard the clattering, I believe when the garden table and chairs tumbled over, came back out to him wrestling her to the ground!"

"Appalling, I tell you! Absolutely shocking behavior. And his language! Made insinuations, called her any number of vile things. Seemed to have gotten the wrong end of the stick about matters up at the Mansion and thought that gave him the right to deal with her however he wanted. Even seemed to be making some lewd accusations about her and her brother, young Ian here! Outrageous! Well, I sorted him out soon enough."

"What now, I wonder, General? The attack took place within the Village boundaries, which means it's my business. But, he's one of the men working under Lieutenant Garrison, which makes it his business too. I'm sure Ian, being her brother, will want a say. And, you being a General, well . . ."

The furious man now wearing handcuffs was protesting all of this, most vociferously. They heard about him being set up, being framed, about his father the Senator, about that 'cheap little whore', about Garrison and his team of convicts and all they were up to, and much more.

A hastily summoned Lieutenant Garrison admitted the man reported to him, reluctantly revealed that damning file, "though I believe the case is in review; he did claim his innocence, all along."

"Well, I would think this puts THAT in some doubt, wouldn't you think, Lieutenant?" the General asked with some irony.

Garrison frowned over at the still-protesting man, sighed, "yes, General, it would certainly appear so. Obviously, I can't have him here; that would put the locals at risk. Frankly, with the discrepancies I've discovered in my own investigation over the past few days, I was going to request he be removed, sent back anyway. I have a job to do; can't spend all my time trying to keep him from playing games, causing trouble. There's a war on, I don't have time to play nursemaid."

"Well, I think I can handle that for you. Constable, perhaps you have a secure place for this man til I get a detail down here to retrieve him?"

"I can do that, but he looks a slippery one. Lieutenant, could I borrow some of your guards, just to be sure he's still there when that detail gets here? I've places to be, you know, me being the only law hereabouts." 

And Steven Whitaker, Senator's son, found himself in an English village lock-up, guarded by several men from the Mansion. Soon he found himself back in Michigan State Prison, and funny thing, that review board just couldn't see their way clear to shorten his term. And the warden, having found a few discrepancies of his own after Whitaker had gone off to help the military, decided to bring back his prior file clerk, and Whitaker found himself on general rotation instead of in a secure billet.

Stevie-boy, as his adoring father and mother called him, served the remainder of his term, decided to follow his father and grandfather into politics, even found the public was relatively forgiving of that little 'misunderstanding', the people obviously not expecting much better from their politicians.

Stevie-boy married well, quite soon after, the beloved only daughter of an equally well known and respected family. Tragic really, her having that fall on the stairs that left her with bruises and broken bones, still in the hospital, only to receive the news that her husband had seemingly interrupted a burglar in the midst of his work.

Shocking, to receive the news of the death of your husband in such a manner; it was fortunate for her that her mother and father were at her bedside to provide comfort in her hour of need. Her two older brothers came as soon as they heard, of course, and gathered her back into the family fold. That's what family did. Her grandfather, Don Cantari, insisted on that; 'you take care of family', he'd always been quite firm about that. 

Word made its way back to the Mansion, where Garrison and his four-man team were taking care of business as usual - a few explosions, a hell of a lot of jumping out of airplanes, bullets flying, a few little side jobs mixed in with grabbing German Generals and conning the brass - same ol', same ol'. 

Casino looked thoughtful at the news and then shrugged, "yeah, well, it figures. 'Don' Cantari, he wouldn't a stood for that; word on the street, even back then, Angelina was his princess. Figure Stevie-boy got lucky; old man's gotta temper."

Garrison gave him a highly puzzled look, "Casino, the man's dead, bullet through his head. How is that lucky?"

And the four men just looked at him, bewildered that he could even ask such a dumb question. Sometimes, they thought the Warden just had a hell of a lot to learn about the way things worked. The way it was going, it was going to take them to the end of the war and beyond to get THAT job done! Well, they'd stick with him, eventually get him up to speed. After all, he WAS family!


End file.
